I never would have imagined that one day I would be a superhero. I always loved superheroes as a kid, those paragons of justice in bright spandex. They taught me about doing the right thing. That you must be willing to stand up and do the right thing above all else.
And as I grew up, I moved on and started settling into the humdrum of everyday life. But then the impossible happened. I don’t know how or when, but I started developing superpowers. Speed, strength, endurance. I gained abilities beyond those of normal humans.
I was given these gifts, and I couldn’t let them go to waste. I would live up to the examples of my favorite characters.
This didn’t go unnoticed by the powers that be, the authorities noticed my acts of heroism. I now have a direct phone to the mayor’s office for emergencies that only my superhuman abilities can solve.
Growing up, I used to think that the big red phone in the Batman TV show was so cool. The idea that Batman was so important that the mayor had a direct line to him was so neat. And now I have one too! When ever it rings I drop everything and answer.
The mayor even gifted me a traditional superhero outfit of my own.
“Your city needs you!” The mayor would say, and I would be called upon to do tasks only someone with my amazing abilities can match. To change into my superhero persona, I would pull open my shirt to reveal the spandex suit that I always wear under the clothing of my civilian secret identity.
Being the defender of the city can be difficult. Keeping my secret life of crime-fighting from everyone is tough, especially when duty calls out of the blue. Often, it will interrupt my day and I’ll have to excuse myself or make up a hasty excuse to drop everything and deal with the emergency.
For example, on a Saturday I had planned to spend with friends, the emergency hotline began to ring.
“Your city needs you, hero,” said the Mayor, “My apartment has become too messy.”
After contacting my friends and making an excuse as to why I would be late, I raced over to the Mayor’s apartment and cleaned his apartment from top to bottom using my super speed. I moved so fast that he didn’t even see me; he walked about like I wasn’t even there. Afterwards, I was able to rush back to my friends and turn up late.
Then there was the time I was in the middle of a date. We were at a restaurant when the emergency hotline buzzed and, of course, I had to answer.
“Your city needs you, hero,” said the mayor. “My feet are sore and sweaty.”
I had to fumble an excuse and leave my date halfway through. Instead of the evening I had planned, I spent that time using my amazing strength to massage and work the tension out of the Mayor’s feet.
Yes, it can be hard living the dual life of a superhero, but It’s worth it to know that I am making a real difference in the world.
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